Road Map
by MahliaLily
Summary: Stars Hollow was like a giant black hole -- no matter how far or how fast you ran, its life-sucking force would eventually pull you back. But not Liz. Liz would escape. She'd be the first.


**Road Map**

**Chapter 1: Destination – ****New York******

_A/N: Now for something a little different… I've had this story bouncing around in my head for about a month or so now, so I finally decided to give the first chapter a try and see where it led. This is the result. I hope you like it. If you feel so inclined, please drop me a review. And, for those of you who read my other story, 'Defending Bjork', don't worry; I haven't abandoned it. Enjoy! ~Becka_

"If you always look one beat ahead, you won't get dizzy." Staring out through the slightly dingy window, Liz Danes repeated this recently self-taught lesson over and over in her head. It didn't really help. Her mind still spun.

When the bus had first pulled away from its Stars Hollow stop, she'd refused to allow herself even a glance out the window. She didn't need to look to know that her brother was standing a few feet away with a concerned expression on his face, cursing her very existence and her impending absence. And she _really didn't need or want to see the sad but proud smile on her father's pale, haggard face. She couldn't risk second-guessing her decision. So, instead, she focused her attention on the other passengers, sizing up the group for potential entertainment value._

Across the aisle from her sat an older woman. Older being relative, of course, since Liz was only eighteen. Anyone over 30 had always been deemed ancient by her and her friends. Rightfully so, Liz decided as she surveyed the woman's appearance. She was sitting perfectly upright – not a curve to her spine, and her hands were folded primly across her lap as if she thought she was at church instead of sitting on a lumpy bus seat. Her mousy brown hair was pulled into a tight bun, and a large, clunky, fuchsia purse occupied the seat beside her. Liz immediately nicknamed her Uptight Mabel. Not exactly the life of the party.

Bored, Liz contorted around to see the rest of the riders. A middle-aged man in a business suit. A mom with two bratty children, a boy and a girl. A disenchanted teenager wearing headphones, probably on his way to visit the other half of a pair of divorced parents. Average. Average. Average, Liz recited. Apparently, there was some unwritten code that specified exactly what kind of people could be found on a bus at any given time. No one too flashy. All genders and ages accounted for. Stereotypes successfully met. 

Liz rolled her eyes and slumped back against her seat. Agitated, she defiantly tried to make her spine just as bent as Uptight Mabel's was straight. Still refusing to look out the window for fear of being assaulted by Stars Hollow memories, she stared at the backpack by her feet and wished for purple, spiky hair; a dog collar; black lipstick… anything that would mean she wasn't fitting right into the collection of clichés that surrounded her. Wasn't that why she was here? To avoid becoming a cliché? 

No one ever left Stars Hollow. Not really. Even those courageous souls who ventured out into the big, bad, scary world of higher education ended up moving back eventually. They told themselves it was because Stars Hollow was a great place to raise a family – a warm, caring community – but really, they just wanted safety. A net to catch them when they fell. Shelter from the storms of reality. Stars Hollow was like a giant black hole – no matter how far or how fast you ran, its life-sucking force would eventually pull you back. The only way anyone escaped was by dying. And, even then, their memory always lived on, trapped forever.

But not Liz. Liz would escape. She'd be the first. 

"Now leaving Stars Hollow," the driver announced. Breathing a sigh of relief, Liz shifted her eyes to the window.

***

After a few minutes of riding, Liz began to feel nauseous. Her eyes were trying so hard to take in the signs of freedom waiting outside her window that they kept following the images as they flew by. Like a small child on a merry-go-round for the first time, she wasn't wise enough to realize that you had to focus on a single point or you'd get queasy. Not wanting to get sick in front of Uptight Mabel, Liz pulled her gaze from the window and bent over her backpack. Sifting through the contents, she pulled out a cloth band and pulled her brown hair back into a ponytail. A few strands fell loose immediately, and she could almost feel Mabel's disapproving glare. But when she glanced at the older woman, her eyes were closed. 'Nice trick, Mabel. Good reflexes,' Liz thought, tucking the errant strands of hair back behind her ear.

Leaning over again, Liz zipped up her backpack. Well, Luke's backpack, to be exact. He'd reluctantly loaned it to her the night before… very reluctantly, in fact, considering he didn't even know he'd done it. It wasn't really theft, Liz rationalized. He must've noticed it when they'd brought her to the bus stop. But he hadn't said anything. Maybe he figured he'd said enough the day before.

It wasn't like her decision to leave had been impromptu or unplanned. She'd made it back when she was ten. Her mother had been telling her about Broadway plays and skyscrapers and college and all of the other wonderful things that lay outside the small town limits, and she'd known then that she'd leave. She could see in her mother's eyes that it was what she'd always dreamed for her daughter, and from then on, she'd dreamed about that day as well. She'd imagined exactly how it would all play out. She'd get accepted to some fabulous university in New York, and everyone would be so proud. She'd be the first Danes to go to college. On the day she left, everyone would gather around her and wish her luck. Luke would pretend like it wasn't a big deal, but she'd see the brotherly pride pushing through his façade. Her mom's eyes would be glistening with tears of sadness and hope and joy. They'd hug her goodbye, and then her dad would drive her to New York. They'd listen to oldies on the radio – his favorite, and she'd sing along while he whistled. Then, when they got to the college, he'd help her with her things, give her a bear hug and a kiss on the top of her head, and drive away, probably honking the car horn to express the pride he couldn't voice. That's how it was supposed to go. 

Instead, her mother had died not weeks after she'd turned eleven, and, despite her continuing determination to make the dream come true, everything went wrong. Instead of college, she was leaving home without a job, a place to live, or any direction at all. And instead of being surrounded by her proud, beaming family, she'd revealed her decision to her dad and her brother while standing in the middle of a sea of thumbtacks, hammers, wrenches, and nails.

It was actually sort of amusing, in retrospect. People always use that phrase "so quiet you could hear a pin drop." Well, Liz had always doubted the veracity of that statement. After all, a pin is a tiny, itty-bitty thing, and the odds of actually hearing the ting as it came in contact with the floor were, well, not good, to say the least. But when those firmly spoken words "I'm moving to New York" had escaped her lips, the silence that followed had truly been deafening. And moments later, when a nail had slipped from among the pile in Luke's hand and fallen to the floor, the sound of it hitting the ground had echoed through her ears like the implosive sound of ten atom bombs. Granted, a nail weighs quite a bit more than a pin, but, nonetheless, it had effectively quelled her doubts.

Fumbling, Luke had placed the rest of the nails into their storage compartment and stood to face her. The pained look on his face might have killed her, but, thankfully, she was watching her father instead. He looked calm. Very, very calm. And nonplussed. He was definitely nonplussed. Maybe even a little proud.

"What did you just say?" Luke asked from behind her. Reluctantly, she turned to face him.

"I'm moving to New York," she repeated calmly.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Luke practically yelled, his low voice booming through the hardware store.

"Tomorrow," she'd said again, resolute.

He'd pretty much lost it then. Going on and on about how this was typical behavior for her, how she was never around anyway, how she didn't care about the family or anyone but herself. Reminding her about how he was struggling to keep things together, how the least she could do was try to pretend like she cared. She'd grown frustrated then, angry at him for always thinking he knew what she was thinking and feeling. He never understood that the problem was that she cared too much. She didn't avoid the hardware store because she was lazy or because she expected him to take care of everything. She avoided it because every time she looked at the stupid thumbtacks or the power cords or the plungers, she'd see her mom and dad restocking the shelves together, stealing kisses when they thought no one was looking. Or she'd see the way her dad used to wink across the store at her mom after making a sale. 

But Luke would never understand that. So, instead, she'd screamed back that maybe she just didn't want to be twenty-one with no future and no aspirations beyond inheriting a stupid hardware store. Hurt had flashed through his eyes then, as she'd known it would. She'd braced herself for the only thing he could say that would hurt her, but he never said it. Maybe he was a better person than she was, or maybe he just couldn't bring himself to use their sick father against her. It didn't matter though because his illness was always present in both their minds; she didn't need Luke to remind her of how wrong it was to leave now. 

Luke pushed aside the cart of supplies and stormed past her. Amazingly, she didn't jump when the sound of her father's office door slamming echoed down the stairs.

"He loves you," her father had said softly. "He's just worried."

"I shouldn't have said that," Liz admitted, turning to face him. "I didn't mean it."

"I know," he acknowledged, absolving her of any guilt. "He'll get over it. He always does."

Liz nodded and pushed back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"I'm proud of you," he stated, reaching out to squeeze her hand reassuringly. "If this is what you want, then you should go."

Liz wrapped her arms around her father then and hugged him with all of her might. She could feel how thin his body was. His breathing was slow and stilted. "I love you, daddy," she whispered, unsure if he could even hear her. After a moment, he pulled away and kissed the top of her head, then he went back to work restocking the shelves. She hovered nearby, watching him for what she feared was the last time. With the comforting smell of her father's cologne still lingering around her, she realized that, finally, in a way, one part of the dream had come true.

***

Liz's eyes burned, pleading with her to let her bottled tears fall. Stubbornly, she sought distraction by glancing at Uptight Mabel. The woman was watching her intently, a sympathetic look on her face. Liz wanted to scowl at her but found she couldn't.

"Are you all right, honey?" Mabel asked.

Liz nodded, afraid to speak for fear her voice would waver. 

"First time away from home?"

Liz nodded again, a tear spilling down her cheek.

Mabel frowned and pulled her fuchsia bag close, searching quickly through the pockets. Finding what she was looking for, she smiled gently and held a tissue out to Liz. "I remember my first time away from home. Don't worry; it gets easier."

Liz forced a smile and, taking the tissue, turned back to look out the window. This time though, she knew better than to watch what was passing by. Instead, she fixed her eyes on the point that rested a beat ahead of her window… and waited for the skyscrapers. 


End file.
